The Lost, The Found, The Loved
by DisBeKalea
Summary: Scabior/Hermione Fic     "You could be so much more then this." She had said softly, and he replied "I know."  This is the story of how Scabior Snatcher and Hermione Granger healed each other's hearts.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione's short labored breaths filled the darkness of the tent; she had been crying uncontrollably for hours. Ron had left, and Harry was furious still. She sniffled, standing up. She was stronger then this. She was much better and stronger then this. She didn't have to take this. With Her thoughts in a jumble, she swiftly walked out of the tent opening, fists clenched and eyes still red. She marched through the leaves of the dark forest, determined to find him. She went out of the protection spells, oh well, she thought with a careless shrug. Hermione was so upset, she didn't think about the dangers of being out by herself, with only her wand. "RON WEASLEY GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE, I KNOW YOUR OUT HERE!" she screamed, sobbing as she fell to the floor. She had searched for hours, the darkness surrounding her. She felt weak. She felt.. Like she wasn't her. "RON!" she screamed, sobbing even more, lying down on the ground, leaves circled around her. Hermione sobbed, sniffling and brushing a piece of her hair back. She laid on the ground, her heart hurting, tears staining her porcelain skin. Hermione felt weak, laying like this, at the mercy of whoever came near. She heard voices, and footsteps, but she didn't care. She sobbed, mumbling "Might as well die.. Ron's not coming back, what's the point..." she lost it again, facing reality. "WHAT'S THE GODDAMN POINT?" she yelled, her screams echoing in the silence that taunted her. ermione heard the footsteps echo in the silence, battling against her screams, which would dominate? Hermione didn't know. She sobbed softly, hearing chuckles, at her weakness, at her failing at life. She could almost see the smirks, the sneers, the cold glares that they would give her. It was dark, so she couldn't make out their faces, let alone try to. Hermione wasn't one to overreact when she was upset, she just got even more upset and cried even more.

"Go ahead.. Kill me. My life isn't worth anything anyway, I'm already dead." the whispered hoarsely, after a few minutes of their soft whispers of insults, and jeers. She sniffled, then continued "I'm just a stupid little mudblood, aren't i? What's the point..."

It was clear to anyone who knew the situation, Hermione Granger loved Ron Weasley. Ron and Hermione had been best friends since 1st year, when Harry and Ron saved her from the troll. And now in their 7th year, she was completely and irrevocably in love with Ron Weasley. But some stupid Horcrux had to mess everything up for them, had to mess their friendship up, and make him leave. For all she knew, he could've been dead by now. And that pained her, to not know, to not be able to know, to not be able to do anything, for Ron.

he silence killed her. The silence of herself, of her weakness. Hermione was going crazy, not knowing, and worrying, about Ron. Ron could be anywhere, even.. Even lying dead, in the middle of nowhere. As harsh as it was, it was reality, and hell, Hermione Granger could face it. She had to face it. She didn't want to believe, that maybe Harry had stormed off too, to look for her, and had met Death Eaters, maybe shipped off to Voldemort. Or that Ron had been tortured, and killed, never to be seen again. It was the harsh reality that jumbled in her thoughts, that made her sob so hard, that made her feel as if she'd gone mad. She felt like she would never live again, until she knew that someone she cared about was alive. Or if she had a little hope. But she wasn't sure if she had any left.

Hermione felt like all her strength, all of her willpower, all of her anger and every quality that made her, Hermione Granger, disappeared. All of her hope had been drained. All of her dreams of winning the war, just went... Poof. Everything. Just gone.

The day was slowly making place for the night as the clouds drifted away to reveal a darkening sky. Scabior was on the move again, as usual, with his fellow snatchers not far behind. Each one of them was carrying a body. Each one except for him and Fenrir. The wolf growled irritated every now and a while, and this affected Scabior greatly. He too felt how he became more amd more grumpy.

"Come on, men, this is the last lot." He told them as he moved his arm through the air, gesturing for them to keep their pace up and move onwards. He then cast an evil glance at Fenrir who once again growled.

"And you'd better learn 'ow to keep your mouth shut." He scowled at the beast who in return snorted. Of course he did not apologize. Snatchers never did.

With a few more steps taken Scabior suddenly came to a halt. The snatcher who'd been catching up with him bumped against his back because of this sudden halt and then tumbled onto the ground with muggle body and all. he tried to pick the body up again soon as he remembered being scolded by Scabior before 'pick it up', one should never let a victim fall out of their hands. No matter the weight.

"What is it, boss?" One of the younger males dared to ask and Scabior raised his hands for absolute silence.

"A sound... A smell..."

Hermione heard the soft voices, and the footsteps, although she didn't move. She simply laid in the darkness, she simply laid in the dead leaves that surrounded her, as winter neared. She lay, in the cold, not caring. Hermione didn't care that the voices neared, that they were coming, she only cared if Harry or Ron was in trouble. She sighed, turning over on her back and looking up at the darkly lit sky. She traced the stars with her eyes, as night began to come near. The stars stood out in the frosty night, the gleaming of them shining away from everything else, and Hermione admired them as the Snatchers neared them.

"Well, Well, Well." Scabior mused as he approached the small frame that lay huddled between the leaves. Was she not cold? Had she not better been with her two male friends?

The snatcher could feel some form of jealousy taking hold of him as he watched the girl in front of his feet. There was no mistake that she was the mudblood. The witchy friend of the boy who lived, who also happened to have a large reward on her head if he was to hand her in. A deliciously good idea, and he licked his lips before sitting down on his heels and rubbing his hands. "If it isn't Mione? I said that right, didn't I? Mione's your name." He snuck our a dirty hand and brushed his kncukles past her cheek. He could tell she'd been crying.

She willingly looked to him, she was limp. Her body was numb, and she didn't really want to move anyway. "Hermione. Hermione Granger. Best friend to Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. 17 years of age." she answered in a monotone (is that a word?), staring at the air in front of her. "You can call me 'Mione, though." she finished, biting the inside of her mouth. Hermione was cold. Very cold. She wouldn't show weakness, though. She refused to. She had already sobbed half of the night, she didn't need any more weakness to be shown.

He felt as if he should chuckle, and he normally would have, but something about her made him stifle his cheerfulness and he looked worried at her instead. Something about the way she looked at him gave him a feeling of sadness and made him aware of the heart he carried inside his chest. He'd hardly ever was aware he owned one, and it bothered him greatly that he felt it now.

His hand gently caressed her cheek as his thumb moved to stroke a drying tear away. Yes, she'd been crying and at the realisation he parted his lips slightly. His breath reached her face, musty and like the woods.

"All right then, Mione. Giving away so much personal details this time? Very clever. I remember when we met last and you tried to make us believe you were Penelope." He looked over his shoulder at his men who were jeering. "Did you think us to be dumb?" He looked back at her again and smirked.

"Ah, but it's good to see you all clever again now. So? Where are they? Where are your little friends?"

Dunno. I went to look for them, cause they.." she choked on her words, sniffling. "They left me." she whispered hoarsely, blinking tears back once more. She buried her head in the leaves, not looking at the Death Eaters. She stayed like that for a while, before raising her head and sighing. "So... Anymore questions?" she asked, carelessly dropping her head down on the leaves.

In a lot of ways, the leaves were like her. So happy, up on top of the tree, on top of the world, and all of a sudden... It all came crashing down. She was left on the floor, alone, to die. Just like the leaves. She was just a leaf, she thought, disgusted with herself. They were right, she thought. They were right. She was nothing but a filthy mudblood. Nothing but that. If she wasn't, then why did the boys leave her?

His smirk faded and Scabior pushed himself up to his feet again. he turned to his men. "Well, what you're all looking at? Move, move!" They hurriedly carried their victims away to hand them in on time, but Scabior stayed put, his hands on his hips as he watched them leave. Only Fenrir remained by his side and gave him a quizzical look.

"I'll be with you soon." Scabior reassured him, and the wolf disapparated. The snatcher turned back to the young witch who lay on the ground looking miserable and small. He bent forth and scooped her up in his arms. Then, with her pressed against his chest, he helped her sit up so that her back was supported by a tree. Now that she was in a sitting position he smirked at her again.

"They've left such a pretty thing like you?" He found it hard to imagine. "They've left you, beautiful?"

"I'm worthless anyway, aren't I. Just a stupid frizzy haired mudblood." she said, disgust shown on her face. Disgust for herself, disgust for being so worthless in her opinion. She shook her head "I'm not worth it, anyway. Ron and Harry were right to leave me." she said softly, looking at the ground and sniffling. 'Worthless mudblood... They left because your so useless.. So dumb.. So annoying..' the insults that people had thrown at her over the years filled her head, echoing in her mind. She almost burst out crying. Almost. Instead she bit back tears and just sat there, head down and tears in her eyes.

"Stupid" He repeated, startled by the fact that she had used that word. Of all things he had not recognised stupid to be a part of her. He lifted his hand to gently caress her cheek, his thumb stroking past the soft and tender flesh. "Mione, You're not stupid. You're a bloody brilliant witch or you'd never outrun me, or jinxed that potter friend of yours."

Their eyes locked and Hermione could see he meant what he said. His own eyes always seemed to give him away as the spoke his feelings, his emotions, his mind. He pitied her. He truly did.

He hushed her. "No need to cry, beautiful. No need to cry."

She cried softly, and hugged herself, pulling her legs up to hug as well. "T-Thank you.." she whispered as she cried, and then let out a small smile. "Your not bad yourself, Y'know. You could be so much more then a snatcher.." she whispered, hugging herself as she softly cried. She knew he was better then this, than what he was doing. He could always do better. He's different. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have comforted her, or hushed her crying.

"I know," he whispered in return. It was part of his intelligence that had warned him not to become much more than a snatcher, for he'd wanted to survive after the war. Once all of this would be over he wanted to settle down and have a family. He wanted to survive no matter what. And being one of the Dark Lord's most faithful servants, perhaps even a right hand man, would mean he'd be slaughtered if Harry and his army of men would win.

Yet if he'd be on Harry's side he'd end up dead when the Dark Lord would claim victory. As he couldn't tell the result of this ongoing war he liked to stay out of sight. And the job of snatcher showed him this opportunity to please the Dark Lord and at the same time create victims who would not remember him as most of them would end up dead sooner or later. That was why they were on his list.

He sighed as he saw her whimper. Her words had dazzled him and he looked down at her hands. She mustn't be too comfortable sitting with her back against the tree. But what could he do for her?

"You should go, run." He urged her in a desperate attempt to give her advice. He wanted to see her safe, though he did not know why.

"No." she replied softly, shifting so she was in a more comfortable position as she laid against the tree. "I won't leave. I wish to die." she sniffled, finding herself rather uncomfortable. She winced, and laid on the ground once more, sighing.

In more then one way, Hermione felt confused. She wanted to die, yes, but in a way.. She wanted to say with Scabior longer. She felt a tug at her heart as she felt him tell her to run. He cared. No, no, she couldn't think like this, she couldn't have any feelings. No.


	2. Chapter 2

He gave her a sad smile. "Mione, you can't stay 'ere." he pressed her, knowing fully well what would happen if his own men were to return or if any other Death Eater would cross paths with her. She'd not last long.

He didn't know why but the thought of her in a dungeon, again, or being tortured, again, or simply dying, it hurt his chest. And it made him frown. Why was he feeling anything anyway? Wasn't she just another mudblood girl, another victim, another specimen of which the world had to be rid of? Then why did it feel like he cared?

His hand now roughly came to rest upon hers and he hauled her up to her feet. "I 'ope you realize that..."

Hermione sniffled, as she stood up, and weakly smiled. "I told you. I want to die." she told him sadly, leaning against the tree and smiling sadly at the man in front of her. "I have no one, I don't want to live alone. I wouldn't last long anyway, by myself." she shrugged, wincing as slight pain came from it. She'd been laying on the floor for hours, anyway.

Hermione's mind had been rather optimistic before, always seeing the good in things. But... Harry and Ron fighting and her being hurt by it? She'd never felt so upset. And this was the way she dealt with it. Most people would've run when they had the chance. But 'Mione wanted to die. And although she didn't want to admit it, she wanted to stay with Scabior. She shook her head, thinking 'No, NO, you cannot be feeling like this. He's a death eater. He's a snatcher. He wants you to run. He likes the chase. He doesn't care about you.'

"If they find you-" But Scabior bit his tongue seeing that it did not matter what he said to her. She had already claimed she wanted to die and by that she wasn't at all like the happy description of the witty witch that always remained loyal to her friends, the description of her unwanted files. As if she was a criminal.

Scabior bit his lip at seeing the girl in front of him. Not at all like a criminal. He wondered why she would be wanted so badly. Wasn't she a mudblood? Then how could she have been able to outsmart and outmagic the Dark Lord.

And what worried him even more was; why would she want to die?

Her friends had left her. He reached out a hand and then drew her close, lifting her chin with his thumb and looking into her brow eyes. A sigh escaped his lips. There was no other option left. He'd take her with him.

She looked into his eyes, feeling her heart begin to beat faster, and a blush creep onto her cheeks. 'No. You can't be like this, Mione!' she thought to herself angrily, sighing. "What am I supposed to do now..?" she asked him softly, biting her lip gently. Her brown orbs were staring into his, and she couldn't help but think that he was impressing her with how gentle and kind he was.

Hermione wanted to think that she wasn't going to trust him, or like him, but somewhere inside her, she knew that was a lie. She already trusted him, and she barely knew him. There was something about him. Something different. She knew he wasn't the same, he wasn't as merciless, as all the other Deatheaters.

His eyes met hers and she could feel how her breath caught in her throat.

"We'll get you somewhere safe."

Scabior wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed her against his chest. She could immediately catch his musky scent, like woods, forest and dried leaves. He was ready to apparate with her when he realized that his men would question him for helping her. They'd probably end up dead, both of them, if he were to do this.

"Do you know any place, anywhere, you could go and be safe?" He whispered to her, his arms still around her frame.

Her mind immediently went to the Burrow. "Yes. T-The Burrow." she told him, burying her face in his chest. Although his scent was unappealing to most, she liked it. She sighed contently, looking up at him and giving him a weak smile.

"Thank you."

She never thought she'd say those words to a Deatheater- one that was snatching and killing, none the less, but she did.

He had no idea how to get there, but luckily his magical skills did not let him down and within an instant they were swept away and landed in the wet and stickiness of the swamp that was near the burrow. He groaned as his shoes were definitely ruined now.

"Nice welcome." He muttered under his breath and glanced up at her. "Whoever lives 'ere 'as protected the premises pretty well."

She sighed "Well.. I was the one who put up most of the enchantments. C'mon." she stood up, helping him up as well. She slipped her hand into his, and eventually got past the enchantments.

She knocked on the door, and wasn't surprised to see that Molly Weasley was beyond furious at her for bringing Scabior along. She saw Scabior look a bit nervous, so she squeezed his hand gently, giving him a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine." she whispered to him, smiling.

Scabior wondered why he'd come along. Although Hermione held his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze he still felt like a stranger in an even stanger place. Like an unwanted guest and he was certain that mrs Weasley would curse his arse if he hang around too long.

His eyes travelled down his arm to where his hand was resting in Hermione's, and he remembered why he'd gone as far as this to help her. She deserved it. She deserved some comfort and a helping hand. Though he doubted he'd be good enough to help her with anything.

"You must be fine, love." He whispered to her in return.

After a long argument, and some shouting, Hermione Granger and Scabior Snatcher were leaving the Burrow. "Well... That went better then I expected." she mumbled, shrugging. "Why don't we go back to where you were, your death eater friends will be waiting." she mumbled, looking at him through her eyelashes.

He just couldn't understand why the other witches and wizards had abandoned a girl with such great wits and so much knowledge, and inside Scabior's mind a small voice kept popping up, telling him there was more behind this than would meet the eye.

He felt that perhaps they were doing this on purpose, ditching Hermione so she could end up... where? At the Death Eaters side? So they could profit from her? But that didn't make any sense for the girl was a mudblood. Even with her extraordinary skills and tons of knowledge she would be killed for having blood that wasn't pure.

He gazed at her. "If we'll go to camp they'll kill you. And me for 'elping you."

She kept silent, thinking for a moment. "You can just say you took me off to rape me or something... You can make injuries on me so it looks real. And I can change your memory so it actually is real to you." she murmured, in thought, biting her lip. She sighed and looked at him, through her lashes "I Won't let you die."

He frowned at her suggestions for the seemed quite harsh to him.

"No, I won't 'ave that."

Scabior gave her a determined glance before taking her hand in his again. "I won't pretend to 'ave 'urt you, Mione. What good would that be?"

And thus he entered the camp with her at his hand, not minding the commenst and murmurs that ensued as soon as they appeared in view.

She mumbled bitterly, "Great. We'll both die. Yes Scabior, your a genius, your a absolute perfectly thinking person."

As they entered the camp, she immidiently felt a flash of fear. She didn't want to die, she really didn't. Hermione didn't want Scabior to die either, it really wasn't his fault for anything.

But Death-Eaters had no mercy.

So, simply, they walked, hand in hand, Hermione looking to the ground as fear bubbled in her stomach.

"Well... boss?"

One of the snatchers asked as he stood up. "I see you've brought yourself a present."

Scabior scowled at him. "Oh, do shut up. No one touches Penelope."

He was lying and he knew it. He was reusing the name she'd given them before but this time it would not work as Fenrir stepped forth.

"The girl's name is 'Ermione." He growled and Scabior felt his heart sink. So they remembered her? Well, it had been worth the try. He glanced nervously at Hermione before trying to think of another way to keep her safely at his side. "I knew that."He quickly retorted.

His hand tightened slightly around hers, to comfort her and tell her it'd be all right.


End file.
